Mr. Darcy struggled to stay focused on the letter he was writing. He knew, from the updates given to him by Mrs. Reynolds, that Elizabeth had eaten all of her breakfast and was now sleeping again. And since the mantua-maker had not yet returned with Elizabeth's wardrobe, he also knew she was sleeping with no clothing.
How was he to get any work done with thoughts of her in his head? He saw her sitting across from him in the carriage with her breasts straining against her clothing, her dark nipples staring at him, her hips and thighs straining against her dress when she slumped down on the carriage bench, her mouth open as she slept, her flush at his pointing out how threadbare her dress was over her chest.
And she was still naked, in one of his guest bedrooms, in one of his beds. Just down the hallway from his bedroom. The quill snapped in his hand spraying black ink over the letter, his hand, his shirt, and blotter. "Damn!"
He had not snapped a quill in well over a decade. His valet would wonder about his mental faculties. He threw the broken quill down on the desk and pulled his hair. What he needed was to get away, to burn off this frustration. Mr. Darcy stood and shoved on his jacket. It was not well done, with large wrinkles on the arms, but he could not wait for his valet to correct it. Besides, who would he see while riding his horse on his grounds?
He paced, surely making the stable lads nervous, as they saddled his favorite horse, a large bay. Finally, he mounted and kicked Achille's sides to a gallop. That was exactly what he had needed, and his horse as well. Galloping over the slowly rising hills, jumping fences, riding around herds of sheep. He laughed when they reached the church with the steeple he had kept in his sights for the last few miles.
After letting Achilles drink his fill of the local spring, and he as well, Mr. Darcy mounted again for a more leisurely ride back to Pemberley. By now Elizabeth will have her new wardrobe and be wandering the halls of Pemberley. What will he do with her? And what will he tell his sister?
He was lucky that Georgiana was still with his aunt and uncle at their estate just north of London. Otherwise, Mrs. Reynolds and his valet would not have hesitated to express their opinion of his bringing in a previously employed gentlewoman into his home with a young lady present.
And what if they did? Elizabeth did look bad with her hair like a bird's nest, her dress and chemise worn thin, and her hands red from washing the laundry. But the staff did know of Miss Elizabeth Bennet already, as they had overheard when he described her to his sister. He would not turn her away just because she had fallen on hard times, through no fault of her own.
But he did worry about his housekeeper and valet. He was positive Mrs. Reynolds suspected that Elizabeth was not just someone he had known in Hertfordshire. Of course, his buying her an entirely new wardrobe might have something to do with that.
Mr. Darcy guided his horse down the sloping hill towards the back of Pemberley. He looked forward to spring when he could show Elizabeth the formal garden in its glory. He glanced up to the far east of the house, on the second floor and nearly fell off his horse.
Elizabeth Bennet most assuredly did not have her new wardrobe. Because she was standing in front of her bedroom window looking out partially behind the thin white muslin curtains. The curtains which hid nothing.
Mr. Darcy stared unabashedly at her figure, her long curly brown hair around her shoulders, her breasts so full he knew they would not fit his hands, and that dark patch between her legs.
He did not know Achilles had stopped until the reins were almost pulled out of his hands by his horse nibbling grass. Mr. Darcy looked away but her figure was burned in his mind. "Stop that, Achilles!"
They cantered to the stables but Mr. Darcy could see nothing but her figure partially wrapped in the thin muslin curtain. He dismounted and then immersed his head in the trough meant to water the horses. He leaned over the ice-cold water breathing heavily and then pushed his head under again. After holding his breath to a count of ten, he raised and shook his head spraying water. A lad handed him a towel which he used to dry his face and hair. But the ice-cold water had done the trick, he no longer had a piss-proud.
Mr. Darcy walked briskly to his bedroom in the hopes to avoid his housekeeper. She had been the housekeeper when he was a lad, and he was sure she would know immediately why his head was thoroughly wet. His valet would know as well. Damn staff! It was not their fault he was completely infatuated with his guest.
By Jove, what was he going to do with her? He could see now that his idea to return her to her family, was not going to work. Mr. Darcy clenched his riding crop and frowned at the thought of Elizabeth departing Pemberley, working or someone else, marrying someone else.
He slammed his bedroom door open. Mr. Strand, his valet, stepped back and raised his hands in front of him.
"I apologize, Strand. I did not know you were inside."
His countenance must have been ferocious if he had frightened his valet. Mr. Darcy breathed deeply while counting in Latin, as his valet undressed him. He needed to decide what to do with Elizabeth quickly before he lost his mind.
"Sir, you have time for a bath before supper if you would like."
"Yes, I would. Do you know if Miss Bennet's wardrobe has arrived?"
"I do not. I will find out though, sir."
Had to take it down as I published it on Amazon. All parts are in one book in Kindle Unlimited on Amazon now! It's Mr. Darcy's Pursuit of Elizabeth Bennet by Demi Monde.